Saturday, December 8, 2012

It's no secret that we're fans of females, fiction, and the Flapper era. I'm a bit boho myself--what mermaid isn't?--and our feminine clients love jewelry that is artsy and out of the ordinary...So we could hardly wait to tell you, the most exciting thing has happened! Italian goldsmith and our dear friend, Ruven Perelman, has decided to pass along some of his hidden gems to you. His mother, who worked alongside his goldsmith father, created a sample collection of beautiful art deco era originals for her exclusive clients of the last century. These pieces were displayed as examples of her talent, but were never worn.

Today were are able to offer these originals to you as mint, vintage jewelry designs representative of a time when women were gaining independence in America.

Writers and artists were forming communities of bohemians who wore their beads large, long, and loose. Similar iconic beads have been restrung as costume pieces for generations, but these are perfectly original designs, not copies. Beads of this quality are rare and expensive these days, and 14K gold and gold-filled findings are reserved for fine jewelry. Art Deco Delite is a collection of vintage custom designs in semiprecious stones, artistic enamel and handcarved beads that were secreted in a vault for decades.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Thanks to Julie Bruce, PhD, we have 10 ways to survive the holidays as Creatives... by being ourselves.

OK, perhaps we need a printable to hand out to family members who push us to fit in, or complain that we're not joining in the reindeer games correctly. Our families might want to remember that if it weren't for Creatives, there may not be reindeer games or holiday stories to tell!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

It's not difficult to understand why Google owns the internet. And Facebook is monetizing through its "promote" option, as is to be expected. So it's adapt or die, folks. We're really into Pinterest these days because (for now) everyone on the planet (with a Pinterest account) can see everything we pin. As long as it's interesting, people will repin our photos to their own boards for their followers to find. Very fair and decent.

Plus, we all like artists, DIY, beauty, animals, and PHOTOS, don't we? I have begun following many blogs since seeing someone pin crafts from them, so I feel like I'm discovering a little more of the universe one pin at a time. Eventually, Pinterest likely will become about the making money directly off of members, once we're addicted to pinning. But meanwhile, it brings a smile to my face that I can collect wise words, pretty photos, and great ideas. Plus, I can share the best of my friends' posts and crafts with my followers!It's a pretty positive place, Pinterest. Join me by following? We'll follow you back! <3, Peace & Harmony. ~Your Mermaid Friend

Listening to my son playing Minecraft on teamspeak...Kinda proud of his leadership skills. But in a geeky way.

“What about mistakes” he asked the flustered fairy, who was animatedly
painting a bouncing crocus blossom red.

“Mistakes are beneath me,” she said.

“You don’t make mistakes, then?” he asked.

“Yes, mistakes are beneath
me,” she repeated, motioning to the tall pile of flower petals under her feet. “I’m
standing on them. With my mistakes beneath me, lifting me higher, I can reach
the taller flowers.”

Sunday, October 28, 2012

One of our original purposes of supporting artists and giving the charities was to live according to our family's conscience. For example, little children should not be making clothing as slaves,
workers should not be asked to sleep upstairs in the factory every night, and workers
deserve a living wage.

But as I perused my designer labels a couple of years ago, I justified my
choices by thinking that surely fashion designers were vetting their factories
in China pretty well. Surely nothing I bought during my corporate career was
made by a child.

Granted, they weren’t always the greatest quality, or even my
romantic style, but they were safe from the bad energy of slave labor. Surely.

As I shopped online, it amazed me how often the flowery
description of a casual shirt omitted its origin. And the customer service
representatives were no help at all. They could tell me the color was azure,
but had no idea where the pricey pieces were made.

I’d already begun buying
bespoke garments for myself from reputable independent designers, and was
planning to carry original designs in my gallery, but much of my closet was a
garish nightmare of uncomfortable, ill-fitting, often ugly-yet-high-end rags
from Chinese factories. Clipping the labels out of them was not helping my
conscience at all.

I felt like a sucker. I was walking around town oh-so-cute
in clothes possibly made by the hands of slave labor instead of mindfully sporting less-than-current, vintage-y shirts I had bought in college.
Actually, that had been one of my finest fashion qualities. I was ready to get back to some
of my finest qualities.

Not yet a crusader for fair trade
(again), I began to inspect my clothing purchases with the rigor of label
reading I exercised at the health food store.

When voting with our dollars, we must find middle ground that respects our values, our human
brothers and sisters, and our depth of responsibility. Yeah, it really does
matter what we buy. It matters how hard we work to live with a conscience—it makes
it easier to live with ourselves!

We make choices every day. We consume, we
waste, we want to care... We justify our wrong choices. What can we really do
to save the planet?

Buying vintage
clothing is easy. I placed my China labels in a consignment shop and stashed the copious
cash from their resale in more artisan-made goods now for sale in our gallery.
The sale of those goods will feed the artists’ families, all
while making conscientious fashionistas drool-worthy.

And we have a teenager watching it all. So we’re
really saving our family. My son has gone to school with wealthy kids from
China. I want him to think of making a better world for the less wealthy ones.
It’s his choice.

But perhaps ours will set a good example. His favorite tee
these days is an organic USA-made, locally tie-dyed logo tee from our gallery.
At least I believe it’s his favorite.
Anyway, he owns one. It’s soft, it feels good, and he knows the difference.

Friday, October 26, 2012

They walked into the sunny shop with its bright art and
orange sides and paused, as if interrupting something important. After being
greeted by the owners, they thought, we
must have imagined it. But the energy was different. This was not just a
shop, but a family. The goods were marked by the
hands that made them--not touched by slave laborers, but worked
with love by creators.

It was almost too much, but just enough. It was breathing in
and knowing the air was alive with grace. Humans don’t earn walking into
another’s space, it is opened to others through hospitality.

So if there is a conversation
going when you enter here, and we pause to greet you, you are not interrupting, you are the invited guest arriving to the party. You’re expected and
welcome.

Sure, we are living a rich life of struggling and
investing capital and sweat into this adventure you just entered. It’s not a shop,
but a gallery. It’s not a business, but a livelihood. It’s not stuff, but one-of-a-kind art.

You’re part of this life. Step inside. We put this all
together with the artists just for you. Appreciate this. Reciprocate if you can
by falling in love with something here. Each piece was created for its rightful
owner—perhaps you?

Thursday, October 4, 2012

I’d Make Soap On a Bouncing Bet, No Lye!You know that place right before payday back in college, when
you watered down your dish soap to make it last a little longer? Yeah, most of
the country is there about now.

In fact some of us
have started making our own soap…

Social, political, international, economic factors—and gut feelings about all
of these—finally reminded me to write this note to myself, which I may as well
share with you. If you read this as part of a cyber archaeological site
sometime in the future, well…

1 Cup Soapwort Plant & Root : 4 Cups Water

Simmer Until Soapy

Store in a Glass Jar for Up to 7 Days

Look for my seed packet for Bouncing Betand add a 4x as much H2Oto the resulting mature
hydroponically-grown plant (or however you’re growing plants in your century) including
the root. Apply heat to the mixture until
it begins to bubble and become basic. That would be called simmer until soapyin our day. Et voila! You have just created pioneer survivalist soap.

Bouncing Bet

Saponaria Officinalis

blooms out in flowers
that smell like cinnamon, and makes soap that is easy on the skin and fabrics.
I made some thyme soap once that smelled awful, but if you want to add any
other herb waters such as lavender to spruce up the
aromatherapeutic qualities of the soap mixture, just be quick about it. Without
the preservatives found in commercial soaps or the cured properties of lye soap
(which is a whole big deal to make, taking days instead moments), this soap
lasts less than seven complete spins of Earth on its axis.

I’m sure you’ll use good sense: Please don’t drink soap or get it in your eyes.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Feet under me, past behind me, I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn to findYour bright face,Your wordsStrumming regret, and yet singingKindness for meSaying what I've longed to hearFor years, since we metWhen it all lay aheadA desert, oasis, mountains, seas...Even then your travelsHad me listening at the wallDrawn around you by womenI placed a bookmarkIn our pages,Something to come back toWhen our placesMatched,When your feet grew tiredAnd you were thirstyFrom the salt of tears,As dreams loomElusive nowAnd anger spoils the landscape,Take the lenses from my eyesAnd see how I see you:See your sweet smileAnd the wide, open spaceFor love to slipInto your arms.Once you charmed me,The future clanging throughThe Windchime.Now you touch me,Your words moving over meIn firm strokes,My skin receiving them,Yeilding to your mercy.In the freedom of this moment,I realize I waited for youMore than one lifetimeDigging a gardenTo the music of my memoryOf you...Just a tune from a restless timeAs you sing your words,As you strum the stringsAnd I find the seedsWere planted long ago--Dormant energyRisingToward the sun--We lay down toWatch it grow...And you were never alone,We were here in the garden.Even as we trudged the earth,We were dancing in the garden,Spinning circles.Now your dusty feet I wash,Dry them with my hair,Set them in the leafy vinesThat line the path we madeNourished by our tears.So we will share the endless WellAnd you will never thirst--You've found it again.Vine around me where we layAs the past rots to feed our rootsAnd wisdom humidifiesTo cloud the pain,And we ripenJust to share the sweetnessOf ourselves with each other.The salt of all the struggling yearsGiving way to the middleWhere I lay my headAs you rest your vibrating handsOn my healing placesAnd I wet the tip of time with my tongue...Love is everywhere, hanging from the treesChiming in the breeze of yesterdayReminding me that we are hereBecause of its graceAs I turn to your faceAs I turn to the futureAs I turn in circlesWith youDancing